February 25, 2009
By Squire Christman BRONZE, Simsbury, Connecticut
Squire Christman BRONZE, Simsbury, Connecticut
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Death, breathless.
Frustration occurs next to the doctors murmurs.
The dog waits at the window,
the oven activated, the gate is closed forever.

A wall, indestructible, nay, a hole.
Graffiti battles the cement for rebellion.

Fire is kindled within, the window shatters, the wall bombed, the gate torn apart. A breath is taken in, but slams the door quickly.
A black taxi takes her away, it rains forever.

She's gone, overtime is nonexistent in this game we play, She lost to the predator whom chases corruption and eludes blasphemy to set fire to those hearts that are defenseless.

Her pure, soft lips are taken, she bleeds.

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